


it was you, it was always you.

by ansutazu



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Inspired by Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso | Your lie in April, M/M, the only reason why this is in two parts is because i'm Tired Inside, this au is just pure suffering oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ansutazu/pseuds/ansutazu
Summary: it was you, it was you, the one who gave me this smile; it was you, it was you! the one who made me realize the darkness will come to an end, so — // your lie in april au for keito and eichi. 2-part fanfic.





	1. if we can make even tears shine, they'll become shooting stars (ryuusei).

**Author's Note:**

> henlo welcome to Suffering(tm). this was originally gonna be one Really Long one-shot but i'm impatient and tired so i decided to cut it into two parts. part two will come out whenever i finish part two and cry for a good 40 hours because of it.
> 
> the title + summary are from hikaru naru, aka your lie in april's first op! i used my favorite line for the title OTL...and i gotta? talk about it for a second? because it's really beautiful, both the kanji and romaji. (君だよ君なんだよ, kimi da yo kimi nanda yo). i dunno, to me it just sound really nice.
> 
> oh yeah against my Better Judgement there was no proofreading that went into this please feel free to tell me if there are any mistakes!!

He stepped on stage with some sort of practiced grace, each footstep reminiscent of nothing but an elegant glide as if he’d been walking on water. That scenery took his breathe away, made his eyes open and head perk up to pay attention — _this guy_ , he mused, _is unlike any protagonist I’ve seen._

Donned in a white suit, he was like that of a pristine, angelic angel.

The performer — Eichi Tenshouin, so it seems — took a bow, and he smiled at the audience before floating over to the grand piano that would have and did loom over every other performer _but_ him. Rather, it looked like _he_ was commanding it, a look of conviction crossing his face as his hands hovered over the key.

The first key resonated in the hall, and when he slowly built up the score to its peak, the music came alive with a breathe from the performer himself. As if his soul had been integrated into the piece, he could see the small smile that rapidly formed into satisfaction cross Eichi’s face as his fingers glided across the keys with overwhelming authority and control. It was a strong, ethereal melody, and he was completely ensnared in that performance that boy had conjured, a delightful taste of cultivated talent and music.

Keito trudged to the temple that night, eyes wide and glasses slanted slightly to the left. That manga protagonist he so admired — who knew that such a human would exceed those he would often draw in his free time?

During dinner, he voiced his intentions to his family.

“Hey — I want to learn the violin.”

* * *

“I’m off,” he calls, slipping on new shoes barely used since the beginning of the school year. Cherry blossoms fell timidly as he trudged down the hill his family’s temple sat upon, adjusting that first-year tie with one hand and holding the strap of his violin case in the other. Once or twice, he adjusts his glasses, and he checks the time on his watch.

Five forty-five. Two hours and fifteen minutes before school starts.

His routine is this — catch the train at six, get off at six-fifteen, walk and get to school at six-twenty, and practice violin until the bell rang at eight o’clock. Unlike his muse, he was not born and bred with such musical capabilities — they were unparalleled to _his_ talent, to whatever God’s blessing had bestowed upon Eichi. And so Keito tasked himself with this practice until he can finally look at Eichi face to face, equal in ability. He had been working on perfecting his skills on the violin ever since that day, worked tirelessly to hone his ability all throughout middle school and up to his entering high school.

He entered Yumenosaki Academy not on a whim — no, the minute he found out that Eichi’s high school of choice was that one atop of a cliff overlooking the sea, he, too, followed in his stead. Fortunately, he got in; academics were not that difficult for this hard worker, and he could claim he was a first-year to his family that stared dumbfounded at the son who did not pursue a more artistic path. Yet they believed in him, encouraged him in anyway, for they had never seen such resolve in Keito’s eyes.

Excitement filled him when he found out that shared the same classroom as Eichi — despair, however, overwhelmed him when he was no where to be found. He was not present during the entrance ceremony, where they called for him several times to make a speech as the class representative ( _as expected from a descendant of the Tenshouin family_ , Keito contemplated). Nor was he in the class that day, or the day after that, or the day after that —

Nowhere to be seen, even up until now, but that did not matter. He would practice nonetheless, so that his form would be in top shape once Eichi shows up…whenever that may be.

The music room remained unlocked, and sets everything up — his stand, his sheet music, his violin. Keito shuffled through the papers with an eyebrow raised, and when he realized he’d played all these scores _and then_ some, he looked around, looking for anyone —

With no sign of life, he prepared his violin, and began to play a soft note, then to a tune of his own imagination. It was a melody he configured out of boredom and indulgence, reminiscent of the temple life he’d been raised in. It was a song he’d framed to fit the image of that pianist from long ago, of his determination to come face to face with that unfair smile once again. Each note yearned for that shining present, memories woven together tightly and unforgivingly.

“Wow — that was a beautiful song.”

All playing ceased at the voice, and Keito was quick to turn around. His glasses almost falter; he rubs his eyes, wondering if sleepiness had gotten the best of him. The figure stood angelically outlined by the sunrise, a halo formed by the peeking sun. That’s exactly what he was — ethereal, pristine and delicate in the uniform he shares.

And he realizes that it really _was_ him.

Eichi gives Keito his much-deserved applause, and he strides into the room, smiling all-too brightly. “It’s quite something else on the violin — it’s refreshing, actually. It’s not a classical song, is it? What’s it called?”

“It’s nothing, something I wrote on — ” Keito pauses, pushing up his glasses as his eyebrows crease together. “Wait, hold on, you’re finally _here_? Where’ve you been?”

“Ahaha, I’ve been fine — just attending to family business, that’s all.” He clasps his hands together behind his back, leaning a little closer to Keito. “Hm? So it seems as if you already know me? Are we in the same class?”

“We are.” He takes a moment to clear his throat, to straighten out his composure before continuing. “I’m Keito Hasumi — ”

“Keito, be my accompanist.”

A pause. “I’m sorry?”

“I said ‘be my accompanist’?” Eichi takes a few seconds for the sentence to sink in, and his grin only grows wider. “You said you wrote what you were playing earlier, right? It was really good, and your playing’s extravagant. If you aren’t already taken, I’d like you to be my accompanist in competitions.”

All that practice, hard work, dedication — did it equate to this offer from Eichi’s own hand, a silver platter of temptation that came from the fact that he disregarded the sheet music that particular day? To think…he had been working furiously with his own goals in mind, to match whatever expectation he fabricated Eichi to have. But he called his playing extravagant, he gave that song praise —

Still, could he stand proudly? It felt like some fever dream to have Eichi ask instead of him.

“Ah — that’s quite sudden, though, isn’t it?” Eichi dipped his head in apology, blonde hair bouncing ever-so-slightly in the light spring breeze that fluttered in through the open window. “And it’s also selfish on my part…I’m sorry about that, but could you at least think about it?”

The irony was that there really wasn’t any need to think more of it.

* * *

Their one and only condition was that Eichi wanted to practice separately. At first Keito was confused — if they were to work together, then why can’t they practice together? Eventually, Eichi convinced him that it was the best method for _him_ , Eichi Tenshouin, and that it’d be oh-so kind of Keito to just follow through; with Keito’s reluctant submission, he handed him the sheet music for the first song they’d play at the first round of competitions.

“Come on, idiot — pick up.” He paced back and forth backstage, clutching the violin he cherished tightly. Keito barely used his phone, the only phone numbers entered in being his parents and Eichi’s. When _he_ didn’t answer his sporadic flood of texts, he resorted to dialing him up, concern filling every inch of his body. It was a heavy, dreadful filling.

_‘We are unable to reach the person you are trying to call. To leave a message, wait for the beep —’_

“Where are you…?” He muttered desperately under his breathe, adjusting the tie that seemed to bother him now. The suit, the entire outfit — he hadn’t worn something this formal in years, and it felt _odd_ , felt too tight and too suffocating. The room was getting extremely hot — was that just him?

_‘We are unable to reach the person you are trying to call. To leave a message —’_

“This isn’t the time to ditch right now, stupid…”

_‘We are unable to reach the person —’_

_I swear —_

“Hello?”

“Eichi — !” He stops pacing, stops everything he’s doing; he nearly drops his violin, and those around him look at Keito with astonishment. A backstage worker tells him to be quiet, another performer just turns back around and keeps practicing what keys to press in mid-air. All these details weren’t apparent to him, and he starts rambling.

“Eichi, where are you? There’s only two performers left before we’re up and you’re not here! What do you think you’re doing? If it’s a business thing, then at least tell me, dumb ass! Seriously, do you have no tact? Why didn’t you answer your phone? At least let me know what you’re up to, damn it! You better have some excuse for this, or I swear…sorry, this isn’t the time for a lecture. I’ve just been worried sick about you, and I’m nervous. So, where are you — ”

“This isn’t Tenshouin-sama.” The voice is stiff, and Keito pauses mid-rant. ‘Tenshouin-sama’?

“Huh? Then who is this, then? Where’s Eichi?”

“I am just a servant of Tenshouin-sama.” The voice pauses, as if waiting for instructions, waiting for confirmation. “He can’t make it.”

“What do you mean he can’t make it? Hey, tell me what’s going on!”

“I’ve said too much.”

And then there was static on the other end.

* * *

Eichi didn’t come back for a couple of days, and the competition was more or less forfeited. What a tragic and pathetically short-lived career.

When he _did_ return to the music room, Keito made sure to chew him out.

“Hey — next time you decide to drop off the face of the _Earth_ , at least _tell me_.” Eichi’s eyes trail over to Keito, standing with his hands on his hips, stubborn and displaying the most scornful of expressions. “Where the hell were you, Eichi? I had to come up with some _excuse_ as to why we couldn’t perform. I had to pack up, leave — are you just stupid? This was _such_ an important performance to me, and you just _ditch_ on the first performance. That’s horribly shitty, if you want my honest opinion. And this whole separate practice — ha, did you even _ever_ practice during that time? I’m so…explain yourself, explain yourself _right now_.”

“Ah…” He closes the door behind him, and his eyes seemingly turn into a bleak shade of blue, a sickly, uneasy sort of color. That’s when he realizes — Eichi looked deathly pale. “I know I owe you an apology…I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t intend to miss such an important thing. It was important to you — and believe me, it was important to me, too.”

“Is that all you _really_ have to say?” His voice is a bit gentler — any louder and he feels as if Eichi might break.

“No, not really.” The boy he cherished so much takes those angelic strides over to the piano across the room, and he sits down on the black leather seat. His fingers graze over the keys, and he looks up at Keito, a sad smile across that ghostly face of his. “You know, I can’t really play the piano anymore. Well, I can read the notes, I know how to play it, I _know_ what it’s supposed to sound like, but — ah, I can’t play a thing.”

“You can’t — ?”

“Just listen.” Eichi readies his hands, hovers them over the white and black keys he _should_ know so well. He takes a deep, struggling breath, and the first finger hits a key.

And then another, and another, and another —

The music he made was absolutely abhorrent.

There was no unity, no flow, no precision. Just notes clashing together aimlessly, pushing and pulling like the tide; there was nothing beautiful about it all, nothing like the performance Eichi had that day.

When he finishes, he hangs his head for a second, and after realizing his implications, he looks up at him again. “See? It’s pretty bad, right?”

“What happened?” Although his eyebrows furrowed still, he had a wave of concern wash over him, and he take just a couple of steps towards where Eichi was. “What _happened_?”

“That…hmm, that’s a secret for now.” He smiled that sad, sad smile once again — the taste it left in his mouth was absolutely bitter. “But do you see why I wanted those separate practices? My skills from before — they’re completely gone.”

“That’s…that’s not _possible_.” Keito scratches his head, narrows his eyes at the very situation at hand. “You can’t just… _lose_ your ability to play. I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Seriously, what happened…?”

“I don’t know either…” He trails off, looking past Keito. “I don’t know, but it’s pretty pathetic to see. I forced the role as my violinist on you, but I understand if you would want to quit right now. I can’t play a single note.”

It wasn’t right, it really wasn’t — that talent from back then, _surely_ it had to reside in him somewhere! He wasn’t willing to accept this obstacle, this _hurdle_ that Eichi had put in front of himself. And so Keito’s resolve had completely changed, energy focused on one thing — to get Eichi’s playing ability back, to have Eichi play as beautifully as he did when he first saw him in that performance back then. He wants — ah, he _really_ wants, he really, so selfishly wants it — to bring back the Eichi that could play the piano as Keito knew it, to bring back the Eichi that painted colors in each and ever note he played, ebbing and flowing so seamlessly. The fascination he had with Eichi’s playing — he was going to breathe life into it once again.

He’d like it if he could bring back that unforgivable smile that day, too.

“I’m not going to quit,” he declares, and Eichi’s eyes fill with some wave of life. “I’m going to get you back into playing again — mark my words.”


	2. kagerou (ephemerality of a human life).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, if you have! i truly appreciate it. this is the end of this little fic. i hope you enjoyed it. i also wish i had more to say, but quite frankly, my brain's fried.

“The school’s annual concert, hm…just what you’d expect from a music-centric school. This seems like a good idea. ” Eichi peers over Keito’s shoulder, a thoughtful expression on his face as he reads the flyer. “So just about anyone can join?”

“It seems like it.” Keito folds the flyer up now, annoying Eichi just a little bit (he doesn’t say anything — not when this boy had dedicated his life into getting back his piano abilities). “So? What do you say? It’s only two days.”

“I think it’s a great opportunity. Let’s go for it.” His voice is as enthusiastic as he can get it, and Eichi puts his hands together at yet another idea. “Ah, for the song — how about that piece you were playing when we first met?”

“H — huh?!” Surprise takes Keito, and a blush spreads across his cheeks immediately (he tries his best to keep it hidden, albeit with only slight intrusion of those pink hues by the time he _really_ focuses on it). “How do you even remember that? That — no, pick something else, idiot!”

“Hmm? Why _not_?” Eichi pouts, crossing his arms in a feigned temper tantrum. ( _Ah_ , Keito muses, silently and with embarrassment, _that’s not fair_.) “If anything…something new to play would be a good way to please the audience, no? It’s original, it’s unique…and perhaps it might even spark something in me when I play it, since it’s exactly those things. Something I’m not used to playing — maybe it’ll move something in me, you know?”

“That’s…” He shakes his head, embarrassment still taking a hold of him. “No, absolutely not, no, no, _no_.”

“Hmph. Don’t be so stubborn.” Eichi takes a poke at Keito, and he flinches just a bit. “Come on, it wasn’t even that bad! In fact, it was _really_ good.”

What a child. What a selfish, egotistical child, playing Keito’s weaknesses to his advantages without as much as a glimmer of hesitation in his actions. He wants to think that he’s not doing it on purpose, wants to think of it as some sort of coincidence or foolish accident — yet that cannot be so, for Eichi’s eyes glint with calculation far from comprehension, some layer of thought that Keito can’t even _dream_ of trying to figure out.

Keito’s weaknesses — were they that obvious?

“Fine,” he finally agrees, and his eyes dart over to Eichi. They were ready to strike at any moment, and for just a few seconds, Eichi grew deathly afraid of Keito’s wrath. “I’ll think of some piano arrangement for it…so you _better_ get your ability to play back.”

* * *

He admittedly — with his signature stubbornness, not an ounce of it left to dry — told Eichi that he had no idea how to transcribe a song from his own mind into notes that Eichi could read, and so he asked Keito to play it once again. With pink dusting Keito’s cheeks, he hoists up the violin, looking at Eichi’s beaming face with obvious embarrassment.

“Oi…stop staring at me like that. It’s embarrassing.”

“Hm? But _Kei_ -to…” His smile stays the same, reminiscent of that childlike smile from before — unfair, it was _totally_ unfair. “Think of it as me just focusing on the music.”

“Huh? What is it really?”

“Just play already, will you?”

He sighs, letting go of any hesitation as he draws the bow back — and with one fine motion, he lets out those nostalgic first notes. The bowstring heaves and whistles that tune of what used to be, of memories he so painstakingly tried to weave together from what little fragments he had. That performance back then, those feelings from that moment — they were all in this one song.

When he finishes, Eichi claps, a glimmer in his eyes, and he’s taken aback by it. The blonde was overflowing with an enthusiasm unlike any other, a scheming visage that seemed to draw Keito in to what Each had planned.

“Hmm…I may be a little out of touch with the piano, but it should be easy enough.” He takes out his phone, tapping on something across the screen. “Ah — I recorded it, you know.”

“You what?” Once again his face flushes red, and he tries to take a peek at Eichi’s phone — to no avail, unfortunately. “Hey, you never told me — ?!”

“Because I figured you’d react like this,” Eichi replies cooly, and he _laughs_. “Come on, I need it to write that sheet music.”

He realized then, albeit reluctantly, that he had a point that suited his very whims.

* * *

Practice day in, day out. Those fingers of him, rough with the constant playing, were forced not to wear out — no, not until the day of the concert.

Eichi had gotten exponentially better, although to say he was at his peak was quite the bit of a stretch. He could play coherently, the melodies flowing in a manner that was manageable to the ears.

But it wasn’t like back then — no, not even close. And although he knows he can’t magically bring back those times, can’t make it so that Eichi could play so beautifully again…ah, he wishes that he could.

And it seems as if Eichi picked up on the subpar improvement as he slumps over the piano, pressing a the same white key over and over again with a pensive expression on his face. He looks up at Keito, frustration hinted at with that glimmer of that emotion in his eyes. “Hmm…it doesn’t sound good at all.”

“Is there really any helping it? You’ve been out of practice, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s just a petty excuse.” He stops playing that singular note, and the frown so sadly placed upon his face deepens. “Honesty is the best policy, no? The only thing holding me back from a good performance is myself — there’s no denying it.”

Strangely enough, he didn’t know what to say — him, Keito Hasumi, the boy that threw himself so forcefully into the world of music, a world in which he gave up every piece of him to accomplish what was now reality. And yet it felt… _odd_ , odd that the boy he followed so fervently had become stuck in a rut, thinking over this problem with the complexity of a Rubik’s cube.

“Ah, that was weird, wasn’t it?” Eichi’s smile returns, the swift change giving Keito some sort of _whiplash_. The grin he so easily put on — it was _unsettling_. “Sorry, sorry — rambling like that’s a bad habit of mine. Going off like that…people find it a little gloomy. I should hold back, for the sake of those whom I will encounter in the future.”

“No.” His voice creaks slightly, and surprise flashes through Eichi’s face for a few moments. “You and I — we’re both similar in that aspect, no? Look at me right now, going off in yet another lecture, but listen — I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter to me. If you’ve got to spew out some epic to come to terms with what’s missing with your playing, then so be it. I’m here to help you improve, after all. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Whenever I’m ready, hm?” A sigh escapes his parted lips, fingers dragging across the keys without hitting a single note. “I hope you don’t mind waiting a bit, then. There’s _a lot_ I have to say.”

Keito was only slightly annoyed.

* * *

He paces back and forth, playing with the end of his uniform’s sleeve and muttering the tune under his breath, even though he knows it all too well already. Keito’s steps echo in the hall, and the quiet was quite the thorn on his side as his sharp eyes now glance over at Eichi, sitting down and playing on a nonexistent piano.

“Are you feeling alright?” Keito asks, stopping his nervous march when he’s in front of the Eichi’s invisible instrument. The blonde looks up, seemingly confused — _ah, why are you looking at me like that_? “I mean, playing and all. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Hm, I suppose you have a right to be worried,” he muses, although now he breaks into that familiar smile once again. (He stops to think — if he peers closely, that smile of his had become all the more…looser. He’s never noticed that before.) “But…I can definitely manage. We’ve been practicing, right? I’m going to give this performance all I’ve got, and hopefully I’ll be satisfied.”

The accompanist’s attention is withdrawn from the blonde when a crew member pokes their head through the door. “Eichi Tenshouin and Keito Hasumi — you’re up.”

When they retreat, Keito turns to look at Eichi, who’d stood up before anything else. He wobbles just a bit, and when he notices Keito’s gaze, he gives him a thumbs-up, a signal that he was fine enough to step on stage.

Keito’s mind wanders for a split second — _just then, was that a sharp pain of worry I felt?_

He opens the door for Eichi, and the blonde shakes his head before passing. He follows suit, nervous as ever, tensing at the applause the last show had garnered. Can they gain the same reaction? Perhaps a little more? If it were less…he’d feel a little discouraged, sure, but then he remembers that he’s _officially_ playing with Eichi this time around, no strings attached. He was _actually_ going to play the piano, Keito was _actually_ going to play the violin for him for the _first time_. Was it some sort of dream? How cruel would it be if he woke up at this exact moment…

“Keito, you look extremely tense. Just relax.”

“Relax…hmm, I don’t know if I can do that.” Eichi’s face comes across as puzzled, and now a small smile breaks Keito’s once-nervous, once-glaring expression. “If you don’t pull off a good performance today, I’m going to kick your ass and we’re going back to the music room to practice for tomorrow.”

“Ah…scary, scary!” Eichi’s small, airy laugh carries to it a light tune, and it was music to Keito’s ears. “I wouldn’t want that. Well then, just as always, I’ll give this performance my all.”

* * *

_Ah…I’ve really pushed myself, haven’t I?_

_The keys are becoming blurry — I’m sorry, Keito, I probably sounded horrible just now. Ah, perhaps all this time? I can’t quite play as well as I used to…out of practice, and out of time. That’s what it is. It’d be pretty terrible to pass out now, and although it feels like I’m going to…for the sake of playing the piano with you, I’m going to will my body not to._

_I’m sorry for being a coward earlier. This performance, a performance I’m giving my all into — it’s my best one yet. No scores, no judgement, just the music to listen to. It’s quite liberating, isn’t it? It’s pretty nice…how nice it is to be alive and to play the piano again. I’m happy to be living in this moment with you._

_However, that’s not going to last long, is it? I feel it slipping away, this feeble thing that’s called ‘my life’. I feel quite dizzy, my heart’s giving way…no, I don’t want to falter to an attack right now…_

_But my life is definitely at its end. I can feel it. I don’t think I’m going to last the night, to play that final performance. For this one to be our only official one — it’s quite sad, but I can say that I’ve poured all that I can into what I’m playing right now. It’s not precise, it’s not perfect, but it holds all my feelings in it. The multitude of emotions I’ve felt the past couple of weeks, months — regretfulness, hopefulness, sadness, happiness, just a few of many — are surely overflowing in this song of yours, Keito. I hope that with what energy and talent that I have in me at the moment…that I’ve been able to do this song justice. I will continue to do so, until this piece’s_ fine _._

_These notes…you’ve been weaving memories all these years, haven’t you? Ah…I’ll match your tune, then._

* * *

“ _Kei_ -to…can we go now? It’s getting pretty late.”

“You missed a couple of notes — I told you, we’d be practicing if you did.”

“Hmm…I do recall it, but I thought it was a joke.” The pale figure against the bright moonlight chuckles a bit, light blue eyes contrasting with the dark blue night sky. He was an inverse of the night, and yet it seemed as if he was blending it. “Ahaha, I should have know better, though…that is, whatever ‘threat’ you use is absolute. How I’ll miss that.”

‘Miss that’ —

“Eichi, what do you mean? Of course I meant it — we have that other performance tomorrow, so practicing now will make tomorrow’s playing much smoother.”

Eichi wobbles a bit, and then he nods. His smile contrasts more than anything else in the background, and it looks so bittersweet, so beautiful. “Yes, I pray that tomorrow is a smooth transition, too.”

* * *

Keito feels a weird sense of déjà vu.

He, again, paces back and forth, looking down at the watch on his hand. He should have been here five minutes ago, ten minutes ago — an hour ago, right when the concert had started! Where was he? Did he ditch again without telling him? There was an agreement, an agreement to tell him if he wasn’t able to make it! They were surely next, what was a violinist without his pianist? This is pathetic, this is stressful, he was _nervous_!

“Excuse me, are you Keito Hasumi — ?”

“W — what?”

He whips around immediately, and he is face to face with a boy whose hair was dyed blue, a mole under one of his purple eyes. His expression is serious, grave — it _scares_ Keito. He wears a suit — that of a butler, and he makes the connection in his head. That is, there are still rich people around with butlers, right? Like, Eichi — ?

“Oh, so it _is_ you.” The boy’s eyes seem to narrow a bit, clouded over by some withheld information Keito was not yet aware of. “Master had said to look for someone with green hair and glasses…that is…”

“Master? Who?”

“Tenshouin-sama.”

“Eichi…hey, where is he? He sent you here, didn’t you?” He grabs the butler by the shoulders, shaking slightly (read: moderately, more than he would like to as he grips the boy with anxious, high-strung hands), eyes widening at the name. “Did he leave again? Did he say anything about the performance? Hey, tell me — ”

“He’s dead, Hasumi-san.”

Dead.

“Excuse me?”

“Tenshouin-sama has been suffering from an untreatable illness since childhood, and he succumbed to it this morning in his sleep.” The butler takes Keito’s shaking hands — how intensely they shook, the very idea of Eichi Tenshouin having breathed his last breath without even knowing it was his last, peacefully heading off in his sleep without so much as leaving a notice for others, despicable, unbelievable, how torturous it was to his soul to take it all in! — and holds them with gloved hands, the dull look in his eyes now understandable. “He seems to have known that he was not going to make it, though. He left a note saying that I should be sent to his school to tell you.”

“He’s dead…he had an illness…he didn’t tell me?” His muddy eyes widened, overwhelmed with a mixture of feelings he never thought a buddhist son would ever undergo despite the many funeral his family had orchestrated.

There was guilt for not being by his side when he died. There was grief knowing that he would never see Eichi’s smile ever again. There was anger for being left out of the fact that Eichi never told him of the illness that plagued him (it made sense now, it all made sense). There was a bittersweet feeling knowing that he was able to meet and play with him at least once.

He was gone, he was gone, he was gone.

He begins to cry.

“I’m sorry, Hasumi-san.” The butler takes out a handkerchief, and he takes it, wiping the tears that blurred his vision and tainted his glasses of clarity. He was gone, he was gone, he was gone. “But…Tenshouin-sama also said in his note that…well…it feels more appropriate to show you.”

Keito was overcome with agony, he was grieving, he was sobbing. He was gone, he was gone, he was gone.

The note takes a while to read — Eichi’s handwriting, yes. He glazes over the part about the butler going to tell Keito, and then —

_Tell Keito that despite having died, I still want him to play in today’s performance. When he plays, I’ll still be there with him somehow. He’ll know it._

His sobs pitter out. He was gone, he was gone, he was gone.

But he also acknowledged Eichi’s wish. He trusted him.

He was gone, he was gone, he was gone, but he won’t forget him.

* * *

There were murmurs in the crowd as the piano’s seat remained empty, and only Keito and his violin walked on stage. He waits for a moment for them to settle down before he gets ready to play.

The first few notes were mournful, and he thinks to himself how Eichi would scold him. No, no, he has to play this perfectly. He was to play with all the feelings he had. He was sad, yes, but he was glad to have gotten to meet him.

His eyes slowly close, and when they reopen, he’s in the sky. The blue was contrasted with white clouds of different shapes and sizes, a slight spring breeze blowing through the space. He wasn’t sure _where_ he was — was it heaven?

He hears a piano, he hears Eichi’s playing, and he turns around.

In this place of clouds, there he was, clothed in white — Eichi Tenshouin, looking at Keito with the warmest of smiles on his face, a smile that sends Keito’s heart into turmoil. Eichi’s playing, he’s playing Keito’s song, and in this time and place, it sounds the most beautiful, the most magnificent that it’s ever been. It was their most perfect performance, and only Keito could hear it.

Eichi was in the afterlife now, an _angel_ now. But back on earth, he wasn’t a divine figure of high caliber — he was _human_ , susceptible to vulnerability and having his own life taken away. He wasn’t immortal — he was _mortal_. He wasn’t some far off figure someone like Keito couldn’t reach, but someone on the same level as him. It was _him_ that put Eichi on such a high pedestal, it was _him_ that brought his own regrets about not being able to do much with Eichi because of how blinded he was.

However, Eichi Tenshouin was just as human as Keito.

This he knows now, and all those memories he’s made rushes back to him, making him feel all the more lighter and carefree. Being sad was pitiful, and to remember all the good moments would be more beneficial, more appropriate; he doesn’t want to think of the dark times, not in a place this bright and vibrant. For Eichi, he would only play with that airiness he felt in his heart, that overwhelming feeling of what bittersweet happiness he felt.

Keito smiles as he plays — there was no time for sadness, not when Eichi was able to make this last performance all the more memorable. This was for him, for everything he’s done.

_Thank you for being born. Thank you for being alive. Thank you, thank you, thank you._

Eichi stops playing, but Keito keeps going. He gets up from his seat, walking over to Keito with that bright grin on his face, once again bittersweet, but he knows now why. He _knows_ why each smile differs, and he returns it with his own smile, letting him now that he was forgiven, that it was alright.

“I’m glad to have met you, Keito.”

He begins to fade away, but instead of calling out to him, Keito only nods in acknowledgment in knowing that this was the last time he’d ever see Eichi. It was difficult, but just this brief moment was more than enough, he tells himself. It was alright. He’d be alright.

“Goodbye.”

When Keito finally opens his eyes back to reality, he realizes that he’d been crying while performing. He wipes them away — ah, they were happy tears, though, and he bows.

That performance, he muses, was breathtaking, and extremely and utterly irreplaceable. That was fine, though — that performance with Eichi was one-of-a-kind.

* * *

He attended the funeral, partly because his family managed it, partly because he wants to bid his friend farewell. As he sits there, the picture of Eichi’s smiling face — genuinely, it seems, which was a good sight to see — looks back at him, white lilies surrounding the casket of his friend.

Next to him, a blonde lady sits down, wiping her nose before speaking. “Excuse me — you’re Keito Hasumi, I assume? Fushimi, our butler, had pointed you out, saying that he had to deliver the news of Eichi’s death to you.”

“Ah, yes, that’s me.” He pauses, blinking at the lady. She was quite young. “You don’t happen to be…?”

“Eichi’s mother, yes.” She sniffs a bit, sighing before continuing. “I heard about you from him sometimes, you know. He talked about you so enthusiastically. I…I’ve never seen him that happy in a long time. I just…I wanted to say thank you, Hasumi-san, for making him happy after a long time. Your time together was brief, but it really made a profound difference in his life. And also, thank you for this funeral — it’s going so smoothly…”

“It’s fine…it’s not much, but it’s something for him.”

“You really followed his funeral plans to the fullest extent…how admirable. You know, he'd been planning his own death for years now. It's quite sad, but...having this for him, I think he'd be pretty happy if he knew that it was you who executed his every whim.” She sighs once again, and then she sits up, matching blue eyes looking at Keito with such power that he was taken back a bit. “Listen, Hasumi-san…I found this on Eichi’s desk a couple of days ago, while I was checking to see if he’d left behind anything.”

She holds out a letter, Keito’s name on the back of the envelope. He takes it, looking down at it with curiosity. ( _So he prepared something else, too, besides that note — what a pretentious guy._ )

“I’m sure that he has but good things to say to you. Anyway, I just wanted to give that to you…read it whenever, will you?”

“I will. Thank you.”

* * *

_Keito,_

_Last April, I told a lie._

_Do you remember the conversation we had the first time we met? When you asked me where I’d been, I only replied with ‘I’ve been fine’._

_Ahh, but you figured out eventually that that wasn’t the case. If you hate me now, I won’t hold it against you._

_You know, my life had been pretty bleak ever since I found out about my illness. My parents knew the risks of having me — that I would inherit a family sickness that just couldn’t get away, and yet they decided to conceive me in hopes that luck was on my side. Aha, it really wasn’t, but they did try._

_When I found out, I was really devastated, you know? And you know how I found out? I was in the middle of a concert, just playing that piano of mine — then all of a sudden, my world went black. Next thing I knew I was in the hospital, hooked up to IVs and heart monitors and other machines that kept me alive. I was seven at the time._

_From them on I had frequent doctor visits, frequent attacks, and that moment of darkness — it kind of scared me, you know. It showed me that my life was pretty fickle. After that, I barely went to competitions, infrequently played the piano. I kind of just…lost my playing abilities, unconsciously blocking them out. I didn’t see much purpose in putting all my energy into that if it’d turn out all for naught._

_You see, that was until you came along. Yes, you. That song you were playing that day — it was really colorful, really beautiful. It felt like it was some sort of red string, a fate that connected me to you._

_I figured that song was for me, that song you were playing that day. Pardon me for being selfish, but…it just sounded like it, you know? It sounded like there was something you needed to tell me, something you’d been holding on to. That type of picture — it’s difficult to convey in music, but you did so in a way that just fit perfectly, so personally. It made me think of you as someone special, someone exceptional, someone interesting. That’s what intrigued me into wanting to get to know you, Keito, and believe me, my only regret is that I have to leave you so soon._

_You know, while I was in my last waking moments…I thought of you. I thought of how persistent you’d been, how stubborn you’d been, how strong you’d been all these years. It was really beautiful, I thought. It was inspiring. It was the opposite of what I’d been doing, and it made me realize that I had to patch up my own resolves. Keito, you really taught me that. I_ _thought, ‘hm, I’m glad to have met someone like that’. Someone like you…someone like you had shown me a sight I’d never seen before. A beautiful sight._

_I thought,‘I don’t want to die’, and yet I knew it was my time anyway. Keito, you made my lifefeel like all the trials and triumphs have been worthwhile. Despite never officially playing together in a competition, those times in the music room — really, they were the best performances I’ve ever performed, and that was because of you. I’m in your debt, you know — my life had a sweet sound to it with you by my side._

_Really, you’re a good person, so don’t stay too sad for long. Please, I’m begging you — get over me and move on forward with your life. I want you to live your life to the fullest, because it’s you._

_Also, I should have said this at least once in my life with you._

_Thank you. Let’s meet again someday._

_— Eichi_


End file.
